A Little Learning. Anne Bennett
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they were given a uniform list.
Betty heaved a large sigh as they left. ‘Thank God that’s over,’ she said. ‘I thought it was going on all blooming day.’
‘Yes, it did drag on a bit,’ Janet said, but she was watching the girls playing tennis in their white skirts and shirts in the courts alongside the school, and seeing herself doing the same thing soon.
‘Let’s make the most of it and take a bus into Sutton and have dinner out,’ Betty suggested, adding recklessly, ‘Hang the expense for once. Mammy said she didn’t mind seeing to the twins, and we could do with a treat.’
It was as they were eating their mixed grill that Betty said, ‘You’ll have to tell Miss Wentworth all about it. She’ll be interested.’
Betty didn’t notice Janet’s reticence, though she might have done if her swollen legs hadn’t been giving her such gyp. ‘Feather in her cap for her as well, I suppose,’ she said, ‘and you can’t say she hasn’t worked hard with you.’ She winced a bit and said, ‘I did intend taking the bus to Erdington to look in the Co-op at the cost of the uniform, but if it’s all the same to you, lass, I feel as if I’ve done enough for one day. I could do with getting home and putting my feet up.’
‘Okay,’ Janet said. ‘We haven’t got to get anything yet anyway.’
‘Not a word to your dad about the uniform list, mind,’ Betty warned. ‘It’ll only worry him to death.’
‘No,’ Janet said. ‘I won’t tell him how tired you got either. We wanted you to let Auntie Breda come with me. It was too much for you.’
She thought the same thing next morning, and before she left for school, she asked, ‘Do you want me to stay at home today?’ She felt guilty because it wasn’t only worry for her mother that made her want to stay away from school.
She dreaded meeting Miss Wentworth, and was scared that in her mind’s eye she’d see her lying underneath the man, moaning and letting him do unspeakable things to her bare breasts. She shut the image out of her mind and said again, ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right?’
‘Yes, fine,’ lied Betty, and added, ‘But you could just pop into your gran’s on the way to school and ask her to come round. Maybe she could take the twins off my hands.’
‘All right,’ Janet said, but she left her mother unwillingly. She took the twins into the kitchen and gave them a big slice of bread and jam and a cup of milk each, then left them her mom’s button box to play with, waved them goodbye and warned them to be good before running quickly round to her gran’s.
When she got to school, the bell had gone, the children were inside and Miss Wentworth was taking the register. It was common courtesy to stand by the teacher’s desk and give your reasons for being late. Some of the teachers automatically gave you a smack across the hand with a ruler or strap. Miss Wentworth only did it to persistent offenders.
However, Janet did not stand by the teacher’s desk, but slunk to her own, her head bent. Miss Wentworth had seen her, but pretended not to. She noticed Janet’s dejected air and wondered if she was worried because she hadn’t yet heard about the grammar school. She was surprised herself; she did think she would have had the results by the time they returned to school. Or maybe Mrs Travers was ill again, she thought, and Janet was anxious about that. She’d been absent the previous day, the first day back after the Easter holidays, and it might explain why Claire hadn’t seen her for a few days, since the day of the party, in fact.
She continued to take the register, and when she got to Travers, she barely heard the mumbled ‘Present, miss.’
Claire looked up. ‘Janet,’ she said, ‘were you ill yesterday?’
‘Yes,’ came the muffled but terse reply.
What’s wrong with the child? Claire thought. She knows that’s no way to answer. She saw the other children listening, amazed that Janet Travers had been rude to the teacher. They were watching to see what she’d do. She couldn’t let it pass, it would affect discipline.
‘Yes, Miss Wentworth,’ she rapped out.
Janet looked at her. Claire recoiled from the look in those eyes. ‘Yes, Miss Wentworth,’ repeated the girl in a singsong voice that bordered on the insolent.
Claire was puzzled and a little angry. ‘Well, what was the matter with you?’
Janet was staring at the floor. ‘I was ill, Miss Wentworth,’ she said in the same droning tone.
‘Have you brought a note?’ Miss Wentworth snapped.
Janet gave a shrug. No doubt now about the intended insolence.
‘Well, have you or haven’t you?’
‘No, I haven’t,’ Janet said. There was a significant pause, and then she added, ‘Miss Wentworth.’
‘You must bring a note, you know that.’
Claire knew she wasn’t handling the situation very well. If anyone else had behaved like this – and she knew the ones to watch – she’d have had them hauled before her desk and administered a few strokes of the strap to remind them of their manners.
She was aware of the amused glances and the odd titter from the class, who were delighted because Janet was sort of laughing at the teacher. The fact that it was goody two-shoes Janet Travers who was doing it just made it more interesting.
Janet was aware of the amusement, and it pleased her. She’d make Miss Wentworth suffer. She was a well-liked teacher, but if Janet was to spread around the school what she’d seen her doing, she wouldn’t be quite so popular, even though Janet knew many wouldn’t believe it. She didn’t even like thinking about it, but she couldn’t help it. Every time she looked at Miss Wentworth she saw her lying panting and moaning under that man.
‘Can’t get no note,’ she said now. ‘My mom’s bad …’ again that pause, ‘Miss Wentworth.’
‘Janet Travers, you are being impertinent.’
Janet glared at her. ‘No I’m not,’ she said. It wasn’t exactly a shout, but she hadn’t spoken quietly. There was a gasp of admiration. Claire’s face flushed and two spots of anger burned in her cheeks. David hadn’t recognised them but Janet did, because Janet had seen Miss Wentworth cross before. She smiled.
The smile enraged Claire. ‘Come out here this instant,’ she said, and banged the desk with her hand so hard the box of chalks and the board rubber jumped.
There was a moment of absolute stillness, and Claire actually thought for one awful moment that Janet would refuse. But then, slowly, so slowly, as if she had all the time in the world, Janet stood and sauntered between the aisles. There was a collective sigh, as if all had been holding their breath. The boys who were usually in trouble leaned forward eagerly. Someone else was going to get it for a change.
Claire stared into the grey eyes she thought she knew so well, but the brooding look she saw there was unfathomable. Claire’s own eyes were pleading for Janet to stop this behaviour. She was more than a pupil, she was a friend, and Claire had never had occasion to censure her before, let alone strike her. She didn’t want to do it now.
Janet blinked. Again the smirk crossed her face, and she said: ‘Going to beat me into submission, are you?’
The other children thought Janet had gone mad. Claire thought so too. She wondered for a moment if the strain of the examination preparations and her mother’s illness had been too much for her. But whatever the reasons, Claire could not tolerate behaviour like this. Already the class were moving and muttering in a way they wouldn’t have dared to do the day before.
‘Silence,’ she rapped out. ‘Get out your arithmetic and start the next exercise.’
‘Please, miss,’ said a boy called Williams from the back, ‘you haven’t finished the register.’
Claire